Skylar : Chance for redemption
by cloudofcalm
Summary: A pregnant vampire resurfaces, and Angel has to stake her - not before saving her child. Skylar's an unusual kid, though, even for a vampire, with a few powers of her own up her tiny sleeve
1. BABY

Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or Angel, they are property of Joss Whedon et al, and I do not own Skylar, or her backstory, or her powers, or her name, they're the property of gidgetgirl, who invented them for Ivorycat, and gave me permission to use. The different stories are completely unrelated.

A/N: Playing around with a story. It's going to hop about a bit, as I don't want to write about years, and years until Skylar grows up. Set somewhere toward the beginning of season three Buffy to begin with, but because Angel leaves, and I'm focusing on Angel, it'll be in Angel season four-ish. 

_It was smoky, and dark inside, but his enhanced senses meant that he could see just fine. He walked up to the bar, glancing down the line of customers. A woman clicked shut her purse, and sipped her drink, looking round. Angelus's lips curved in a smile, and he walked over. _

_"What's your name?" he asked, as they paced along together. She laughed._

_"My mom was a free spirit or something," she confided. "My name's Skylar." _

She snarled, yellow eyes glowing maliciously, and ran. If his undead heart could skip a beat, his would. The face hidden beneath the vampire visage was achingly familiar. A face that haunted him, amongst the others, Jenny Calendar with them. He'd seen her before, a young woman, a cloud of dark hair tied at the nape of her neck. She'd smelt of roses, before he'd drained her. Ashen white, lips stained with his blood. 

He was her sire, and she knew it. His own features thickened, coarsened, teeth elongated. He pursued her, through the dark alleys of Sunnydale, home to the vampires. Smelt her on the air as she thought she had evaded him, and slipped into a deserted house. 

He palmed the stake, feeling the wood grain against the tips of his fingers. He'd created her, he'd kill her, though nothing would wipe out the guilt of that time when he'd turned her, pretty young women he'd a fancy for. 

Angelus had a fancy for. 

He followed her in, stealthily, and paused, heeding the slight noise. There was a crash from further within, and he moved forward, the image of the young woman still fresh in his mind, guilt still fresh in his mind. 

He stopped, staring at the scene within. A vampire's nest, filthy and dank, a couple of broken down couches probably stolen from Sunnydale's tip and a lot of drink bottles scattered about. Lying on the floor, however, her now human face scrunched in pain, the vampire he'd turned screamed, her heavily pregnant belly rising above her. 

It wasn't possible, he didn't remember turning a pregnant woman, vampires died and all within them died, they didn't bear children. He hadn't seen her fully in the dim light, her face only had been clear, but it was here before him. 

He crouched beside her, and helped, pulling a screaming, red infant from the bloodsucking mother, wrapping it in his coat in a desperate attempt to save it. Sadness welled in him, deep, deep regret at what he had done to this child's mother, killed her and killed her child's chance of a normal life. 

As he turned back to the mother, her eyes glittered lasciviously, resting on the child. Very slowly, her tongue moistened her lips and caressed the tips of her fangs. Swallowing back bile, Angel slipped the stake from pocket to hand, and staked her. 

The dust and blood pooled on the dirty, newspaper-strewn floor, as Angel carefully carried the newborn child, cradled to his chest, from the house, heading toward the hospital.

"Is she yours?" the doctor asked, glancing at the tall, and silent young man waiting. He nodded curtly. The doctor smiled sympathetically, and touched his arm lightly.

"She'll be fine. We'll keep her in the baby care unit for a few days, get her to feed, and then you can take her home. Does she have a name yet?" he asked, reaching for a clipboard. 

Angel began to shake his head, but the baby's wails rose above the hushes of the nurses cleaning it up. They were loud, piercing, but sweet to his ears. He'd killed her mother, ruined her life, but she was still alive. He'd never let anything happen to her, again. 

"Skylar," he said shortly, then added, "Angel." Nodding, the doctor noted it, as Angel signed the form, and left, the baby's cries loud. 

A/N: Next chapter, Skylar as a baby, a couple of things more in Sunnydale, then moving to L.A. 


	2. DIAPERS

_Disclaimer: I do not own Skylar, her powers, or her backstory. They are the property of gidgetgirl who made them up for Ivorycat, and who agreed to lend them to me. Ivorycat's and my stories are completely unrelated. _

_Disclaimer no.2 : The name 'Skylar', the powers created with her, and her backstory are NOT Ivorycat's. They were made up by gidgetgirl, even if she was not properly credited in Ivorycat's series. I however am crediting gidgetgirl. _

_A/N: A chapter of little Skylar, then a couple of years on from now, and then Skylar Angel, big with the 'why?'_

A/N mark two: I actually wrote this chapter a few weeks ago, but have only just found it. Ergo, update. Enjoy. 

"What do I do?" Angel asked, his voice rising desperately as the tiny baby lay on his bed, screaming her little head off, surrounded by the wreckage of a dozen diapers. Not only did he have no clean ones left but in addition, Skylar did not appear to be happy about it, or him. 

Awkwardly, but extremely carefully, the vampire slid his hands underneath the naked child, and lifted her against his chest, one hand cradling her head, the other her tiny bottom. She frowned, her eyes sliding in and out of focus as she tried to concentrate on this intruder on her screaming. Skylar was only two weeks old, but her lungs must have been the size of a fully-fledged six month old, by the amount of use she was getting out of them. 

"Okay," he said under his (non-existent) breath, holding her close, "Okay. Skylar, please be quiet. Please?" 

If the baby had shot him a superior look, and laughed derisively, as if to say 'fat chance', at this point, Angel wouldn't have been surprised. Sighing, he searched his small apartment to find something to cover the baby with. Shifting her to one arm, he pulled a hand towel from beside the basin, laid it over the bed, and then gently placed Skylar on top of it. He folded it neatly over her bottom half, and tucked it in, so the makeshift diaper was snug around her. 

"You're not hungry, because I fed you," he informed her, as if the newborn actually understood him. "And you're not wet, because I just cleaned you. So you're screaming because-"He broke off, defeated. "You just want to send me insane," he finished his sentence. 

Skylar blinked, yawned hugely, then fell silent, as if tired of hearing the sound of her own voice. Angel stared at her. 

"Now you're quiet? Now? When you've been yelling for the past twenty minutes?" he demanded. If the baby could have given a tiny shrug, she would have done. 

Scooping her up, he fitted a tiny romper suit over her little limbs, wrapped a blanket around her, and carried her toward the door, his wallet securely in his pocket. He was a vampire on a mission, haunted by the faces of past victims, to protect the world from evil for his redemption.... And occasionally, pick diapers up from the Seven Eleven. 

He opened the door, and stopped, as Buffy stood there, one hand raised to knock. She blinked, pushing golden blonde hair out of her eyes, startled.

"Wow. Way with the promptness," she commented. She frowned, her eyes falling on Skylar. "And the baby... Angel, what's going on?"

There was a split second where neither of them spoke, Angel searching through his mind for a response not including formula, diapers, spit up, or stopping would be baby-stealers-homeless-vampires from taking Skylar. It had been a long two weeks.

"She's not mine," he assured her. "She's the daughter of-"he paused, thinking of how best to phrase it. "Someone I killed. When I was Angelus."

Buffy's hand went to her mouth in shock, staring at Skylar, her eyes filling with tears. 

"Her mother was a vampire," he said quietly. "And I saved the baby." 

"Angel, this is a newborn," Buffy lifted her eyes to meet his. "I can tell from the frog-look she has."

"Skylar doesn't look like a frog," he defended the little baby, holding her more protectively. 

"Listen to yourself. Angel, you were Angelus eight months ago." 

He shook his head, and stepped back into the apartment, Buffy following him in. 

She sat down on the bed, her coat spilling around her. 

"Skylar was born two weeks ago, Buffy," he said gently. "Her mom was a vampire, and pregnant." Buffy's eyes widened, surprise and shock flitting across her face. 

"But.. you said vampires can't have children," she said slowly, raising her eyes to his for confirmation. He nodded, shrugging, wishing he could say something clearer. 

"I don't know why it happened, Buffy. I just know it did, and Skylar's alive. I have to protect her," he finished, his jaw set. "I didn't protect her mother." 

"Pretty name," Buffy offered, still stunned by the news. "She's really cute, Angel." He smiled slowly, allowing himself to take pleasure in the little newborn. She bit her lip, and looked up at him, a strange emotion in her clear green eyes, something he couldn't read. "Can I hold her?" 

Gently, he laid the tiny baby in Buffy's arms. Skylar batted her arms about a little, as if to protest a bit against the abrupt move, and then settled down, trying to focus on Buffy. She sighed a tiny baby sigh, and her eyes fluttered closed, asleep finally. 

"How did you do that?" Angel asked, unable to stop himself. The baby tended to wail herself to sleep normally, passing out exhausted against his chest after hours of walking her back and forth across his apartment. Buffy met his eyes, her face glowing. 

"It's the heartbeat, Angel," she answered, her voice low, but her eyes sparkling. "Their moms' heartbeats can be heard while they're being carried. You don't-"she broke off, uncomfortable. 

He nodded silently. "I'd better take her. I've got to go and pick a few things up." Buffy glanced over the bed, covered in the wreckage of the diaper session, and began to laugh. 

"Okay, I'll go," she reached up and kissed his mouth, passing him back Skylar, who didn't make a sound. 

A/N: Okay, if you want to see cute-baby Skylar, then let me know. 

Review!! 


	3. FAIRY TALES

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Angel, they belong to Joss Whedon et al. I do not own Skylar, her backstory, or her powers, they belong to gidgetgirl.

A/N: I have removed the hostile reviews, and shall do so in the future. Any queries regarding my stories or characters can be addressed to me through my email address, not using my reviews as a message board.

Okay, people like the cute baby Skylar, so you get a couple more chapters of that, before we move on.

"The vampire crept through the house, searching for the little girl hidden behind her bedroom door." Angel paused in his tale, and glanced down at Skylar. The baby blinked back up at him, her blue eyes innocent, and blew a bubble, enraptured. Angel frowned worriedly. Was it okay to be telling horror stories to a two-month-old baby? Skylar kicked her legs happily as if to dissuade him of the notion that he should go back to tales of fluffy rabbits and ducklings. He shook his head, a tiny smile turning up the corners of his mouth as he snapped her little pink romper suit back on, and did up the tiny buttons awkwardly, his big fingers fumbling.

Scooping her up in one arm, he put away the powder, and the packet of diapers, and settled back down onto the bed, the soft glow of the lamp beside him casting shadows across the baby's interested little face.

Skylar worked her mouth a bit, making tiny protesting sounds as she batted her hands about. Carefully, Angel picked up the bottle beside him, and sat back, the baby drinking hungrily. Wide eyes gazed up at him blurrily, as if to remind him to finish the story.

"He heard her breathing hard, and her little heart beating, and smiled to himself," Angel told her in a soft, whispering voice. Skylar blinked up at him, her eyes suddenly sharply in focus, telling him plainly that she wasn't having any of it. Sighing, Angel's hopes of getting the baby to sleep earlier than normal faded, but he cuddled the warm, sweet-smelling bundle closer, a tiny part of him happy. When Skylar was in his arms, he could forget the problems facing him, the Ascension, Buffy, the faces that haunted him, and only one little face filled his mind. "He crept nearer, and nearer, smelling the blood.."

"Hey." Buffy leaned against the doorway, her golden-blond hair mussed from the wind outside and her cheeks flushed pink, watching them, a little smile quirking her lips. "Angel, were you telling that baby a story from your vamp days?"

"No," Angel replied defensively, playing with one of Skylar's miniature fists as she pounded the bottle, trying to feed faster. Buffy laughed, and walked over, dropping a kiss onto his cheek.

"You never tell me stories about your vamp days," she attempted to pout, folding her arms over her chest. 'What happened to Squirrel Nutkin, and three little pigs?"

"She doesn't like them," Angel confessed sheepishly. "She screams." Buffy rolled her eyes, shooting him a humorous look all the same.

"Angel, she's two-months-old," she rejoined, sitting down beside him, running her fingers over the fuzz covering Skylar's head.

"She's bright," Angel attempted to argue, but met her eyes, as she shook her head reprovingly once more.

"Aren't you going to say hello?" she whispered, reaching up to kiss him properly. Obediently, he bent his head to kiss her back, not losing his hold on Skylar's bottle. Pulling back a little, Buffy smiled, and nestled in against his chest, looking down at the baby.

"Her eyes are changing," she remarked, sliding one fingertip across Skylar's soft skin. "They're getting darker." He followed her gaze, to the happy look of the contented baby. Skylar's eyelids were drooping, but determinedly, the baby was staying awake. He noticed with surprise that her blue eyes were not the light, bright colour they'd been when he'd brought her home, but were now a deeper colour, murky. He hadn't realised.

Buffy snuggled in closer, tucking her legs up beneath her as she watched her lover and the baby contentedly.

"You know, my Mom was stressing over the whole situation," she confided, yawning sleepily. "But I just want to forget about it, you know? Maybe after I'm done fighting the apocalypse, again, we can just stay in here, and make the world go away. I mean, it has running water, right? We can just stay here, and watch her," she added, tracing a pattern across Angel's hand. He felt like he'd been burned.

"Uh, Buffy?" he drew back, standing, lifting Skylar against his shoulder. He stood uneasily facing her.

"What is it?" she rose, facing him, her forehead creasing in worry. He coughed, shifting Skylar in his arms.

"This, Skylar, she doesn't change anything," he said, meeting her eyes in a steady gaze. "I'm still... after the apocalypse, I'm still leaving. I'll be taking Skylar with me."

Buffy flinched, a look of pain in her eyes as she met his. She nodded slowly, blinking fast, and swallowed. "Yeah. Skylar doesn't change anything. Why didn't you say anything? You just went along with it, let me think-"she broke off, letting the sentence tail off. "God, Angel." She swiped at her eyes angrily. "Couldn't you be bothered to tell me? You let me think it had changed, that this meant something different."

He remained silent, as still as stone. Tears sparkled in her eyes, as she bit her lip wordlessly. Finally, she lifted her gaze, imploringly.

"Will you say goodbye?"

He shook his head, feeling like he'd just had everything ripped apart once more. "It's best... for both of us.. if I don't," he replied, his voice husky. She lifted her chin, strength of the Slayer enough to get her out of it, her pride intact, and nodded.

"Goodbye."

The smoke shifted over the building, sirens from the fire-engines screaming as they arrived to help with the blaze, ambulances helping those wounded in the battle onto stretchers. He stood, Skylar wrapped tightly in his arms, and watched her. Smoke-stained, and dirty, but still smiling, she exchanged the post-apocalypse banter with Xander and Willow that he'd come to expect. And then, for one heart-wrenching second, she looked up, and found his eyes across the devastation. Time slowed, and then regretfully, he turned, and disappeared into the gloom as she glanced away, gone before she could look up.

A/N: Distinctly un-B/A story here! Canonically, this period was a B/A story arc, so it has elements of B/A in it. Next chapter, L/A, Cordelia, Doyle and the actual plot, involving baby Skylar.

Please review!!


	4. BROODY DADDY

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or situations of 'Angel' or 'BTVS' they are the property of Joss Whedon et al. I do not own the character named 'Skylar', her name, powers or history, they belong to 'gidgetgirl' who has lent them to me, and did so previously to Ivorycat. The two stories are not associated.

The actual plot is however, mine.

A/N: This chapter marks the beginning of the real plot. I'm not entirely sure whether it will continue with Skylar as a baby, or still skip ahead to her aged four or five. Any votes, voice 'em in the reviews.

/

"You're moping." Angel shook his head determinedly.

"Cordelia, I am not moping." He shifted Skylar from his shoulder so that she was cradled against his chest. The brunette sighed exasperated, and rolled her eyes heavenward.

"Angel, you mope. You mope like Doyle drinks," she added, as an afterthought. Doyle looked up from futilely trying to unscrew the pill bottle, and focused bleary bright blue eyes on her.

"Princess, I resent that," he pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to alieviate his headache, his soft Irish brogue thickening with the hangover. "I don't drink as much as he mopes."

Cordelia considered it a moment, pausing in her flicking through the –unpaid- bills to be sent out again to clients, and tapped her finger against her lower lip thoughtfully. "It's pretty close. But then, even you getting hammered doesn't compare to a visit down 'think about Buffy' lane.." she trailed off, as the look of gloom on their boss's face darkened. "Oops, did I say the 'B' word?" she finished nervously, miming zipping her lips, not without a self satisfied smirk gleaming in her eyes. It was so a Buffy-mope.

"Can I see the little darlin'?" Doyle asked, reaching out to Angel. Carefully, Angel placed the baby in the Irishman's arms. Skylar batted his nose with one hand contentedly as he did so. He'd soon become resigned to his baby being slightly more... violent in expressing her feelings than most. Doyle groaned as the little girl was nestled into his arms.

"That's the girl," he sighed, smiling a little at her immediate grab on his fingers. Skylar gazed up at him, amused for the moment with a game she had invented, along the lines of 'stuffing his fingers into her mouth, and sucking hard'.

As Cordelia and Angel continued to argue half heartedly as to whether Angel was moping, acting gloomy, sulking, and other various forms of hanging about looking less like a creature of the night, and more like a six year old whose favourite toy had been taken away, Doyle groaned louder, and rested his head in his left hand, tucking Skylar closer to him more securely with his right hand.

"Would you keep it down?" he said pathetically, shooting Cordelia a pleading look. "My head is pounding like the Cantathian demon drums."

"Which means," Cordelia interpreted for anyone listening, with a derisive sniff, "That he got drunk in some little Irish bar until two in the morning, and spent dawn wailing about leaving the Emerald Isle, and singing songs with the rest of the washed-up, fashion-less Irish Americans in Los Angeles."

Doyle knew he shouldn't have taken Angel and Cordelia to that bar after a late demon brawl last week. He was about to protest again at the level of noise, but as he was groping for words to describe the current pain shooting through his temples, he found himself searching for the agony. A soothing coolness moved through his head, and his headache was... gone.

"Well that's a good thing with Cordelia around," he informed Skylar. Her eyes had become an inky dark blue, and hadn't changed much in the last couple of weeks or so.

"Cordelia, enough!" Angel finally snapped, stalking into his office, and closing the door behind him.

"What's up his ass?" Cordelia muttered, sitting down at her own desk, and starting up the computer. Doyle gave a soft whistle through his teeth.

"And didn't you mention the 'B' word?" he asked reprovingly. "Y'know what he's like around her, although someone could take anything from someone as beautiful as you, princess," he finished, admiration and mischief sparkling in his bright blue eyes.

"So not happening," she told him, without looking up from flipping through case files. "When will Angel make these people pay?"

"He's not in it for the money, girl," Doyle reminded her, picking a pacifier up from the nearest desk, and offering it to Skylar. "He's after redemption. A guilt-ridden avenger of all the wrongs done to the innocent, a champion-"

"Who's only real concern is keeping himself from getting groiny with the Slayer, and ending up Angelus again, blah blah blah," Cordelia interrupted, thoroughly unimpressed by the latest rendition of Doyle's 'hero' spiel. "But we have bills to pay. Some of us have expenses."

"For those pieces of fabric you call clothes?" Doyle raised one eyebrow. Cordelia folded her arms across her chest.

"You don't seem to mind," she answered defensively. "Besides, this is genuine Valentino. And we have to look good, or we won't get any rich clients." She scanned him over and shook back her thick hair, satisfied. "Some of us have to make the effort," she emphasised.

"Darlin', you look good enough for the both of us," he answered honestly. Cordelia smiled to herself, and preened. Even compliments from the half-drink Irish deadbeat were compliments, and in L.A, they were thin on the ground.

/

"I'm going out," Angel informed them both, swirling the black coat off the stand, and around his shoulders as the dusk settled further into darkness over the city. Cordelia stood up, confusion on her face.

"Out? Where?"

"And why are we not with you, and all?" Doyle interrupted, rising from beside Skylar's crib. Angel paused, his hand on the door knob.

"I'm going to see some clients," he told them, and then shot a tiny grin at Cordelia. "You told me to get the bills paid. So I will."

"And you're leaving me with him?" she spluttered, pointing to Doyle. Angel considered it a moment, sizing up the two employees, and then glancing at the sleeping baby in the crib.

"No. I'm leaving both of you with Skylar," he decided, and left before Cordelia's indignant protest could be voiced.

/

As the moon rose higher in the sky, a dark cloud moved across it, blocking the silvery light briefly from view. The robed figure lifted back his black hood, and regarded the moon solemnly, his blood-red skin glistening. He sniffed, slitty nostrils flaring, and a soft sigh rose up.

Pushing aside the thick, nailed oak door, he walked into the dim room, lit only by the dozen fires, whose heavy smoke was acrid, and stung the eyes. A throaty growl of inquiry met his ears, and Dak'ath fell to his knees in an obsequious manner, jumping up as soon as possible, eager to tell his news.

"It has been done," he directed the statement to the throne at the far end of the room, where the shadows fell across. "The power has been used. They are here."

The figure on the throne shifted, and a face appeared in the gloom, deep crimson, and dripping, a lascivious, bloodthirsty grin appearing.

"Soon," Dak'ath promised fervently, bowing his head to the ancient stone statue, pressing his hands against the cracked and weathered base, now in the room of the leader for safekeeping. "Soon, She will come again."

A hideous baying began, surrounding them.

A/N: Next chapter, Doyle and Cordelia babysit, while Angel comes up against a client.

Review!!


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